Alleyways
by jeromevaleskr
Summary: If there was a survival guide for Gotham City, the first rule would be "Do not walk alone at night." Luckily for you, you were never one to follow the rules.
1. Alleyways

If you lived in Gotham City, it was just mandatory that you didn't walk alone at night. If you did, you were basically insane.

Luckily for you, walking in the dark had become a common routine of yours; you'd finish your shift at the cinema, then make your way home. There was no point in calling a cab, since your home was within walking distance. Plus, you kind of enjoyed walking at night. The neon lights would illuminate the puddles on the ground, and if you were lucky enough, you'd be able to see the moon shining in the reflection.

You were just nearing the corner, the corner where the alley opened up.

Some part of you had always dreaded the alley. It's not that anything bad had happened during your little walk through there. (If you didn't count the time that drunk guy came up to you, poorly impersonating the mayor. After trying to convince you he was taking donations for 'city funds', he promptly vomited on your shoes.) Unfortunately, if you didn't go through the alley, it would add another six minutes onto how long it took you to get home.

You braced yourself, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you entered the crevice in the two buildings; a Chinese restaurant and an old thrift shop.

You heard police sirens in the distance, but you weren't alarmed. It was a customary thing in Gotham - you'd gotten used to it after growing up with stories of bank robberies, burglaries and murders. It was almost as if your life was in black and white, until the flashes of red and blue came along, followed by sirens. In fact, that was like what most people lives were like in Gotham City.

There were dumpsters lining the alley, with trash littering the ground. It was dark, save for the moon light that was almost directly above your head and the lamps at either end of the passageway.

You were almost directly in the middle of the dark alley, and you could see the street lamp lighting up your destination at the end. You heard a car screech in the distance, which made you freeze on the spot.

Footsteps accompanied a low sizzling noise. It seemed like there was faint laughter.

 _God, what if they were coming your way?_

You heard the sirens again, louder this time. The footsteps were drawing closer. Tires screeching and police sirens were never a good combination.

 _Shit, shit, shit! Is there a handbook for this?_

At the end of the alleyway, you saw a man. Or a boy. He was young, and you left it at that. His features were hidden by shadows. He swiftly edged around the corner, into the alley. He stayed near the wall. There was something metal in his hand that glistened in the dim moonlight.

Had he seen you yet? If he hadn't, he sure would soon, seeing that you were standing frozen, bang in the middle of the narrow passageway. Every nerve in your body was telling you to run or hide, but even moving an inch would bring attention to yourself. Staying still would also bring attention to yourself. Either way, attention was inevitable.

"What's a girl like you doing out so late in a city like Gotham?" You heard a voice say casually, and you came to the sudden realization that it washis voice.

You swallowed, blinking as if waking from a trance. "A girl like _me_?" You repeated weakly, mentally scolding yourself at the way your words came out so feebly. You looked at him, but he was still concealed in the shadows, near the wall.

He appeared to shrug nonchalantly. The sirens continued wailing, but were getting further away. He stepped out from the darkness, and you breathed in a sharp intake of air.

God, you were so screwed.

Everyone had heard about the group of criminally insane inmates that were broken out of Arkham. Everyone had heard about their little fiasco recently, which involved spray paint and dead bodies being flung from buildings. It didn't take you long to see the ginger hair and the gun to connect the dots. He was Jerome Valeska. A wanted criminal.

"I'd better be going." You immediately blurted out, taking off with hurried foot steps, past the ginger boy who had a faint smile on his lips.

"No," He said, extending out his arm and aiming the gun directly at your head. "you'd better not." You spun around, and saw that he now had a devilish grin, and his crazed look made you want to squirm, but you held his stare determinedly.

"Look, I don't have anything I can gi-"

"No, no, no. All I want is directions." Jerome reassured, still smiling. "You see, I haven't been out a lot in Gotham for a while now."

You gulped.

"Do you know who I am?"

Yes. "No." Great, you thought. Act stupid. Maybe he'll let you go if you j-

He narrowed his eyes. You hoped you hadn't pissed him off. Note to self: Don't make people who are holding guns at you angry. He twisted his lips to the side, as if he was considering something. "I really need to make a name for myself." Jerome muttered under his breath, sighing dramatically in irritation.

"I really need to go." You told him, eyeing the gun pointing at your face cautiously. Jerome steadied his aim once again, shaking his head. You heard the sirens again. Looks like they were circling the area.

"Nuh-uh." He said. "You'd just go to the GCPD."

"They'd still look for you anyway, wouldn't they? You're a fugitive." You argued.

"So you _do_ know who I am." Jerome exclaimed, a short, giddy giggle leaving his lips. He raised his eyebrows, as if he was daring you to deny it.

You opened your mouth, but snapped it shut as you heard a door opening. You cast a glance over your shoulder, and saw that a chef wearing a white apron was carrying a trash bag. He was whistling softly, but abruptly stopped when he saw the scene before him. He dropped the trash bag, which rolled to his feet.

You saw Jerome aim his gun at the man, and you widened your eyes in alarm. Before you could prepare to shove the criminal away so his aim was off, the pistol fired, and then there was a ringing in your ears. A dull thump sounded as you looked to the man who was once standing by the dumpster. He was now lying in a puddle in a heap of limbs.

You covered your mouth in shock, feeling the need to vomit. You heard your heart thud in your ears. Breathing heavily, you looked back at Jerome, who was smiling at the corpse on the floor.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You heaved, backing away from the crazed ginger. You heard sirens, a lot of sirens.

"They heard the gun shot," You whispered, faintly smiling in relief.

"Oh yeah," Jerome said, pursing his lips. "Probably should've thought about that before I took the shot." He added, shrugging as if to say, "What can you do?"

You started backing away, an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. You just witnessed a murder. Your eyes kept darting to the crumpled man on the floor, grimacing each time. You were just making your way down the alley. God, you needed to get to the police.

"Not so fast." Jerome laughed, pointing his gun back at your face. "Where do you think you're going?" He sang, grinning.

"I'm getting the fuck away from you!" You declared through gritted teeth, staring directly at the pistol's muzzle.

"I can't let you do that." Jerome said, almost sympathetically whilst shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

You were almost hyperventilating, and a hand sprung to your heaving chest.

"If I let you go, you'll just tell the GCPD where I went." He said. Jerome glanced behind your head, presumably watching for any approaching officers.

"I wouldn't." You reassured, clamping your mouth shut to stop yourself from panting. "You can trust me."

"I'm not taking any chances." Jerome deadpanned, lunging for your arm. He dragged you towards him, and you lurched forward. Jerome began forcing you down the passageway, and you could feel the muzzle of his gun hovering above your ribs. "You have to give me directions, remember?"


	2. Mazes

"I _thought_ we said no hostages."

"Yeah, well, I got a little lost." Jerome snapped, clearly irritated with the man who had formerly spoken. Jerome's gun was still pressed into your side, but the pain had subsided. Slightly.

The man who had spoken was eyeing you suspiciously, and when he opened his mouth you noticed that he had extremely sharp canines. He was quite large, and had dirty, frizzy hair. You gulped, disliking the way he was looking at you, and stumbled backwards.

The dilapidated warehouse you were currently in was filled mostly with wooden crates, their contents god knows what. They were stacked upon one another, creating a sort of maze within the large building. Either side of you was a large wall of wooden boxes covered in dust, and there was a narrow passage way in front of you. Some crates were draped with moldy sheets, others completely overrun with cobwebs. The signs of disuse were evident.

"Who's this then?" The guy with the afro asked, tilting his head and looking at you as one would do to an exhibit at a museum.

You felt Jerome shrug behind you, and then heard him say, "I dunno. She never said."

"Sorry to interrupt, boys, but we need to g - who on _earth_ is that?"

Jerome firmly spun you around to address the new member to the conversation who had entered between two crates, and you sucked in a sharp intake of air when you realized something about him was recognizable. He was slender and tall, with slicked black hair.

"Like I a'ready said, she never told me." Jerome informed him, leaning forward so his head was right beside your shoulder. He was grinning, you could tell. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to not look at that familiar man, so you glanced up at the ceiling of the warehouse, pretending to be incredibly fascinated with the high beams above your head.

You were just moving onto the third beam on the ceiling, thoroughly examining a rather detailed cobweb when someone trapped you on your temple. Your head snapped so quickly down you were surprised you didn't get whiplash. You jolted forward from being startled, but your captive's unyielding clutch kept your balance.

"I _asked_ you a question." The familiar man said, his face expressionless and his glare cold. You swallowed, but your throat was dry from fear.

You exhaled raggedly. "Could you repeat it?" You asked, awkwardly giving him a weak smile.

The man smiled thinly, nodding once. "I asked what your name was."

"Oh." You replied, blinking several times. "It's..."

"Yes?" The man said, urging you on impatiently.

"I... I don't r... Y-you're criminals."

Jerome made an extremely faux-gasp behind you.

" _Criminals_?" The man in front of you repeated, and then he shook his head, as if in disbelief.

"I think I should remind you that you're being held at gunpoint, hun." Jerome said, letting out a small cackle.

You heard doors creaking open, and then after several moments a huge guy came bumbling out behind a pillar of wooden boxes, with a limp body slumped over his shoulder. His fists were encased in blood, and you had to restrain yourself from vomiting on the spot.

"Aaron, how nice of you to join us!" Jerome exclaimed, broadly grinning. "Would you pass me that chair, please?" He asked in a polite tone, gesturing with his head to a wooden chair beside the brute.

The man, otherwise known as Aaron, made a grunt, and dropped the body to the floor. You winched as you heard a sickening crunch. Aaron took the chair and dragged it over to Jerome, where he forced you down onto the seat. Your hands were then bound behind your back, and you were grateful that the bindings weren't extremely tight.

"Now, where were we?" Jerome asked, circling round you with the gun loose in his hands. "Ah - I remember! You were telling us your name, weren't you?"

You exhaled deeply in defeat, pursing your lips together whilst staring down at your lips. "It's... y/n."

"What a _lovely_ name. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Jerome said, and put out his hand for you to shake it. With your hands tied behind you, you simply looked at his hand, then his face, then back at his hand once again. "Oh, yeah. Forgot that you were a 'lil tied up." He laughed, the unpleasant sound echoing throughout the warehouse. The other men within the abandoned building watched on with worrying expressions.

You didn't know whether or not you wanted to scream, cry and laugh. Perhaps performing all of them at the same time would work.

You decided not to humor him, and stared forwards. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothin', really." Jerome said bluntly, waltzing round in front of you, to crouch down with his hands on his knees so you were at level heights, "Either we kill you, or we take you with us. You leaving here alone isn't an exactly option."

Silence followed, save for the thudding of your own heart in your ears.

The man you recognized cleared his throat. "Alright, then. Jerome, make your decision fast, then we're out of here. Dobkins' got the transport running out back." He signaled to the man with the afro and Aaron, who both followed after him to the double doors from which Aaron had entered from.

The doors clanged shut.

You were left alone with Jerome, who was still grinning wildly. You stared at him, keeping his gaze defiantly.

"Y/n. . . What shall I do with you?" Jerome muttered, more to himself than to you. He tilted his head, deep in thought.

"Uh - I would recommend _not_ killing me." You commented sheepishly.

Jerome nodded twice, as if he was judging your suggestion.

You heard doors burst open, and the shouts of "GCPD!" was bellowed into the room. Your head snapped to the crates around you, searching for the source of the noise. Thank god, you were going to be _saved_.

Jerome quickly rose, his eyebrows furrowing together. He looked down at you. "Due to recent events, I've taken your recommendation into thought," Jerome told you calmly, as he grabbed your upper arm and thrust you up from the seat. "and I've decided that you're coming with me. Unless you want to get shot, I suggest that you don't struggle. Let's go!"

Then you were off, being dragged through the mazes with the incoherent muttering of Jerome constantly in your ear. Somehow, he was able to navigate through the crates, which amazed you completely, since you would've gotten lost as soon as you entered the wooden maze. You could hear the shouts and calls of the cops that had entered the building, and were probably searching through the maze for the both of you.

"I'm over here!" You shrieked, hoping that at least one of them heard your call for help.

Jerome suddenly pulled you both to a stop. "Do you have a death wish?" He screeched, his voice low. He indicated with his head to his pistol, and you had a feeling that that gesture meant that he wasn't afraid to use it. You bit down on your tongue, then you began moving once again. You were rapidly picking up speed. With all the crates that you were passing, you were starting to believe that maybe Jerome didn't actually know where he was going.

"Are we lost?" You asked him in a whisper, trying to hide the relief in your voice. Maybe if you stayed there long enough, the GCPD would find you.

"Of course not." Jerome immediately replied, shaking his head.

" _Stop right there!_ " A man's voice bellowed, and you swung your head to where it came from. There James Gordon stood, a man whose face you'd seen in the newspapers countless times before, with his pistol raised.

" _Finally!_ " Jerome exclaimed, laughing giddily. "I was gettin' a lil' tired of this cat an' mouse chase."

"Let y/n go. She has nothing to do with this."

"She does now." Jerome countered.

Footsteps were approaching, so you inclined your head to the other passageway of crates, spotting a woman wearing a blue uniform carefully treading with her gun aimed forwards. Jerome seemed to have noticed her too, since his eyes were darting between the two cops.

"The more the merrier!" Jerome simply chirped, shrugging.

"Let her go." Jim repeated once again, his voice calm yet demanding. Jerome shook his head.

"Liste-"

"You know what? After all your pestering, I've come to a conclusion." The ginger maniac interrupted with his confession, calmly watching Jim's face. "I surrender." He raised his hands, releasing you from his clutch, letting his pistol fall from his lose grip to clang on the cold floor.

You were flung forwards into a wooden crate, but spun around without a second to experience relief, to watch the ordeal with a bizarre look on your face. The woman hesitantly neared Jerome, kicking his gun behind her. She firmly took Jerome's hands and hand cuffed them behind his back. Despite the predicament Jerome had put himself in, he was grinning wildly the entire time.

"Don't worry," Jerome told you, locking your gaze as he was being dragged away. "I'll be back!"

You swallowed, hard. You looked over to Jim, who appeared to be just as confused as you were.

"Something's not right." He stated quietly, muttering the words harshly under his breath.

You could hear Jerome's hysterical laughter in the distance. "I hope you won't miss me much!"


	3. Cinemas

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: Gotham (TV) Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Reader Jerome Valeska/You Characters: Jerome Valeska Reader Additional Tags: i'm the trash queen criminal jerome Oneshot reader is a female sorry - Freeform hope u like being kidnapped by ginger criminals Language: English Stats: Published: 2015-12-13 Updated: 2016-02-16 Words: 4718 Chapters: 3/? Comments: 2 Kudos: 40 Bookmarks: 1 Hits: 784

Alleyways wasted

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Chapter 3: Cinemas

Notes:

okk... so... it's been like 84 years, i know. well, there's really no excuse lmao. i kind of just forgot the email and pass to my accounts, but i didn't try that hard to uncover them again. i feel terrible bc oh boy it really has been ages. enjoy reading

Chapter Text

"Did you hear about that crazy guy being broken out of jail?"

You almost spat directly at the man's face. His body was angled towards his friend, as they nonchalantly chatted whilst waiting for their tickets.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" You interrupted, practically hanging out of the ticket booth you were sat in. The man turned his head to address you with a frown.

"Uh - I don't know much about it. Some guy who used be an inmate at Arkham was broken out of jail. They say the cops can't find him anywhere."

You swallowed. Hard. With shaking hands, you gave the man his tickets and he wandered down the cinema to the screen rooms. If what he said was true... That meant Jerome was out there somewhere, wandering the streets of Gotham. Your heart rate was increasing, but you tried to calm down. Even if he was out there, why would he come after you? You laughed nervously, earning a few strange looks from customers, and shook your head in disbelief. You exhaled deeply, but the sinking feeling in your stomach just wouldn't leave.

I need to cool down. That's all. You reassured yourself, brushing stray hairs away from your face.

Exiting the cramped ticket booth, you called Sarah over and waited for her to approach you. She dragged the broom she was sweeping the floor with over, and propped her elbow against the wooden beam.

"What's up, buddy?" She asked, the usual crooked grin on her face. A crease formed between her eyebrows as she saw your face. "Jeez, y/n. You look like you've just seen a ghost!" Sarah reached forward to hold a hand to your forehead, but you swatted it away, smiling faintly.

"I need you to cover the ticket booth for me." You said, bluntly. As soon as Sarah heard the word "ticket", her smile drooped. "C'mon, Sar, only for a few minutes." You pleaded.

"You said 'a few minutes' last time, and then I ended up stuck in that little box for twenty minutes!" Sarah grumbled, dragging her hand down her chubby cheeks. You made a sad face, and Sarah sighed. "Fine, but only because you look pale as hell and I'm worried for your health."

You thanked her, gratefully making your way to the toilets whilst wondering what you'd have to do to make it up for her. A break away from all the heat of the stuffy ticket booth would prevent you from going hysteric. You heard the ongoing movies as you passed the different screens, but once you reached the bathroom it was particularly quiet. Bracing your hands on the cold sink, you watched yourself in the mirror. You turned on the squeaky faucet, splashing your face with the cold water. It was refreshing, and you were already feeling calmer. Sure, Jerome wasn't in jail, but he also wasn't coming for you.

You dried your face with a paper towel, and walked out of the toilets. You were finally relaxed. Of course, that was until you heard the voice.

"One ticket to see y/n, please!"

You stopped dead in your tracks.

"Uh, I - She - We don't sell that here." Sarah laughed awkwardly. You tread carefully on the carpet, coming to a corner, where you peeked your head around. You stifled a gasp and your eyes bugled out from your head. "Y/n is in the bathroom."

"Would you be a doll and go get her for me?" Jerome asked, smiling sweetly. He rested one elbow on the booth, his ankles crossed as he grinned at the passerbys exiting the cinema. Your heart was racing in your chest as you watched in horror.

"Sure," Sarah nodded, leaving the booth to walk towards the corner you were using to hide behind. As she neared the corner, you grabbed her arm and yanked her behind you.

"Oh h-"

You smothered your hand over her mouth, and held a finger to your lips.

"Sorry, ladies. Am I interrupting something?"

You didn't turn around, but Sarah peered over your shoulder and shook her head. "Nah. I was just going t-"

"Okay, you can run along now." Jerome interrupted, and you could practically feel his eyes burning through the back of your head.

Sarah muttered a reply, ignoring the alarmed looks you were giving her. She walked past, leaving you alone. With him.

What was he doing here, in a public space like a cinema? Surely he should be staying hidden, not going out of his way to come for you.

"Miss me?" Jerome asked, prodding your shoulder. You spun around, keeping your distance.

"I'll call the cops." Your response was blunt.

"Unless?"

"Unless you leave." You replied sternly, folding your arms across your chest. You were slowly backing away from the redhead, although you had no idea what your intentions would be if you got a few feet away from him.

"So you would basically let a criminal run away free?" Jerome asked, inclining his head to the right with a mischievous grin.

You exhaled deeply, trying to remain calm. You hoped you looked relaxed with the bizarre situation, but on the inside you were panicking. "What are you doing here? You said yourself that there was no reason for you to kidnap me."

"Fair point," Jerome agreed, nodding. "However, there's been a change of plans about your usefulness. You see, I need a hostage."

You screamed as loud as you could. Hopefully, it would catch the attention of the people purchasing their food, or even better, the entirety of the cinema.

Jerome lurched forward and covered your hand with his mouth, much like what you'd done to Sarah. "Oh come on! You always have to make things difficult, don't you?"

"As if taking someone hostage wouldn't be difficult!" You argued, but it came out muffled by his hand.

From behind Jerome, you noticed Sarah worriedly exiting the booth. "Y/n, you a'right over there?"

"Yes, we're fine!" Jerome answered, as he began walking further down the corridor. Sarah continued advancing towards you, and stood at the end of the corridor.

"Y/n?" She called out, unable to see in the dim light.

Mustering all your strength, you kicked back into Jerome's shins. He recoiled backwards, loosening his grip over your mouth just enough for you to scream out, "Call the police!"

"Oh," Jerome said, forcefully pulling you down the corridor with long strides, "I really wish you hadn't done that." He swiftly yanked you through the heavy back door, into the cold dad of the night.

* * *

"What the hell took you so long?"

"That doesn't matter now, Greenwood." Jerome snapped back, readjusting his position. He hit Robert on the back of the head. "Would you just drive already? It's not like the cops are on their way, or anything!"

Greenwood accelerated the car forward, zooming out of the cinema's back alley with worrying speed. You were flung to the backseat with the sudden jump forward. You hands had been handcuffed to the door handle, and you were seated in an uncomfortable position with your back curved and your legs twisted into the driver's seat.

"Why do you even need a hostage?" You screeched as Greenwood took a sharp turn, and you flung into the door with brute force. You winced, attempting to straighten your back and sit properly on the leather seat.

"Only time will tell, young one," Jerome answered, laughing. He wound down the passenger window, and let out a giddy whoop, followed by bursts of laughter.

Greenwood took another brisk left, and you were bounced into the door once again. With the thud of your body hitting the solid door, Jerome looked back. "Hey, don't damage the goods," he told Greenwood briskly.

The man with the afro scoffed. "Do you want to get to the location before the cops or not?"

Jerome pursed his lips, suddenly losing the need for laughter as he watched the passing streetlights whir by. "Just hurry up."

You felt like you were going to puke. Being in the back of that car was like being in a washing machine, constantly turning and being thrown about. When the car finally stopped, you felt like you could actually breathe for once.

"We're here, kids!" Jerome laughed, bracing back into the back seat. Soon he had left the front of the car and was opening your door, uncuffing you from the handle. "Sorry about that, y/n." He told you, and you could've sworn you heard a hint of sincerity in his voice. "Couldn't have you leaping out the car, so I had to take precautions." With that, he grinned widely.

Pulling you to your feet, he guided you up stone steps, towards a large, grand building. You knew this place.

"Are you going to rob the bank?" You queried fearfully, watching as the large letters of 'Gotham National Bank' grew closer.

"What made you think that?" Jerome asked, barely holding in his laughter as you arrived at the top of the steps.

It was chilly, and you couldn't help but shiver. You listened out for any sirens blasting, any signs of hope, but there were none. The night was silent, and you couldn't have felt anymore helpless if you'd tried.

You pushed forward away from Jerome, but his vice grip on your upper arm kept you walking in step with him. "Don't even try to struggle."

You were taken between two of the stone pillars to the glass double doors. Right in your line of vision was a single wooden chair. Apart from a single spotlight on said chair,the room was pitch black.

"I have a special seat - just for you." Jerome said, speaking quietly into your ear.

You gulped, deciding to stay quiet.

"Go ahead," Jerome insisted, gesturing towards the lone chair. "Take a seat." For once, he actually let go of your arm, but prodded you forwards with his finger.

Hesitantly, you stepped forward, edging closer towards the chair. A soon as you reached it, you plopped down, trying to steady your breathing. Immediately, you hands were bound behind your back, as lights flickered on around you.

You glanced at your surroundings, and your breath hitched at your throat when you saw what was circled around you.

Explosives.


End file.
